


who you think we should blame

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 10:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: What if Dick had gone to Joey instead of Raven in Titans Special #1?





	who you think we should blame

**Author's Note:**

> continuity variety pack, just like rebirth. thanks, dc.
> 
> title from ["my enemy"](https://youtube.com/watch?v=fKuxh0E9mSI) by chvrches.

_Don’t tell me. You’re here out of the goodness of your heart._ Joey raps his chest twice with his middle finger maybe too pointedly.

His lunch date looks at him over his shades before he pulls them off, folds them into his shirt pocket, and leans over the table. _I’m here about a job._

He’s earned the right to act a little disingenuous after Dick Grayson whisked him away from his office and his sad home-packed salad at noon to take him to a chic cafe. Platonically, of course. Sipping his coffee, he relishes the faint bitterness on his tongue. _I already have a job. Which I should be doing--_ He stops signing to glance at his watch with a flourish. _\--right now._

 _You’ve been working with Deathstroke._ If that’s an accusation, it’s rich on so many levels.

Joey takes another controlled sip. _If anyone Deaf is around, you aren’t being as subtle as you think._

Sighing with an incline of the head that says he concedes the point, Dick reaches for the fine leather-bound menu and props it up. _I’m--_ He’s stopped up short, struggling for the word. He settles on mumbling, “Recruiting.”

Immediately, Joey crosses his arms over his chest. Being on the defensive this early isn’t a great look for him, but Dick’s so good at breaking through that he has to anticipate. He snaps his index, middle, and thumb together in a hard _No._

 _You were part of--_ Again, he doesn’t have the word, but this time he remembers he can spell it: _D-E-F-I-A-N-C-E._ Another reminder of how disentangled their own lives have become, even if their family’s fates still run in perpetual parallel. Still, Joey thinks, he _could_ be signing with his sister Cass and apparently isn’t.

 _You’re recruiting me by telling me how little you think of my judgment?_ Pretty funny how Dick’s emotions can override his diplomacy in such a hurry.

Dick leans forward, and of course he pulls out the imploring, wide blue eyes now. _I’m reforming the Titans._ That alone jolts Joey in his seat. Sensing an opening, Dick presses, _I need someone with your skills._

 _Who are your options?_

His expression flickers, mouth pursing in protest.

Joey shakes his head. _Don’t tell me you don’t have other options._ It’s not about insult, it’s just that he knows how Dick, a Bat in the beginning and in the end, works.

Dick’s eyes flicker downward before he flaps his fingers at his mouth and draws a line across his forehead. _You’re better with people than she is._

First of all, he disagrees. _Rachel…_ He starts picking it out in letters, but a blip of aching affection in his chest and he signs her name instead, a smooth flow from _bird_ into her hood instead of just _black._ _She can communicate better._

 _That’s not true._ Incensed, Dick glows as much as he does in joy. Joey’s forcibly reminded of just why so many ragtag teams have fallen behind this man.

 _I don’t mean it like that._ Joey heaves a soundless breath. 

An interruption as the server sets their plates in front of them, and Dick stares him down the whole time, though he smiles and thanks her when she meets his eyes.

“Thank you,” Joey adds, using his app for the first time since Dick came and got him. She smiles, uncertain, and scurries off.

When she’s gone, he continues, _Jericho is active, yes. But I haven’t been part of your circles for a long time. The younger generation doesn’t know me._

 _We’re not that old,_ Dick says. Hasn’t that always been easy for him to say. _Besides, we’re dealing with what we call_ emergent threats. He gets that stuck-up face he does whenever he’s talking about something confidential. Pausing, he pokes a leaf of arugula back onto his plate. _They’re newly meta-powered humans who don’t know what they’re doing._

 _And you’re qualified for that how?_ The jab is not only mean, it’s unfair. Never once when they worked together did Joey find Dick lacking for being a non-meta. He tries to soften the blow, setting down his fork so he can touch Dick’s wrist. _I’m qualified for that--how? You think we know what we’re doing?_

Dick laughs, sharp but bright. _Ask me how I convinced the JL._

_The Justice League is on board?_ Via Rose and by keeping his ear to the ground, Joey learned that the old Titans team--Donna, Roy, Wally, Garth, startlingly similar to the original lineup with the exception of Lilith filling in the Raven-Joey slot--had been disbanded none too willingly by the Justice League. 

_We have that Justice League_ money. _And headquarters in the Hall._ Dick raises his eyebrows enticingly.

 _In the immortal words of Wally West,_ ’sweet!'

Dick’s smile falters. 

_Wally’s not part of the team, is he._ Joey frowns, too. _Roy? Donna? Garth?_

 _Donna is,_ Dick acknowledges.

_And you’re calling it the Titans._

A wince. _Joey…_ He signs it slow, and Joey can recall introducing himself repeatedly to Robin, guiding his hand and arm until he had it down like instinct. _I want you on the team._

 _I appreciate the offer, Dick._ The name Joey gave him, _bird_ over the heart. _I really do._ Expression softening slightly, he touches his wrist again.

 _Still a no?_ Dick confirms, and Joey nods. Looking down, he picks up half of his sandwich and chews before he signs again. _It’s still good to see you._

Joey relaxes minutely. He doesn’t entirely let down his guard, though. _Good luck with the team, anyway._

 _We don’t have to talk ‘shop’ anymore._ Dick brushes his black hair over his forehead, casual and provocative at once.

He grimaces. _What do you want to talk about? Your dad?_ That tic in his face when anyone calls him his father. Some things never go away. _My dad? My dead fiancée?_

 _I heard about Étienne._ The mourning in his expression is deep for someone who never knew her. To think they’ve reached this place, where Dick never met the woman he was going to marry. _I’m sorry, Joey._

Joey says nothing, breathing in and out, then draining his coffee. _How’s Alfred?_

A small smile touches the corners of his eyes, the blue of them, like drowning wells, lightening. _Good. Spoiling me for restaurant food._ He pushes across his plate, a peace offering.

He accepts the other half of his sandwich and takes a bite. 

_How’s your sister?_ Dick asks, then twists his fingers together on the table. They both study his scarred knuckles for a moment. His hands were never soft, not even as a boy, not with his circus background and night work. _She’s still with Deathstroke, too?_

 _Better Dad than my mom._ Joey can admit that, for all his complicated loyalty to Adeline, she’s a snake in the grass. 

_How can you support that? She’s in danger,_ Dick objects.

Now, there’s any number of things that Joey could point out. Tim working with Ra’s al Ghul. Or right to the point, Renegade and Deathstroke.. _Grant wasn’t with Dad when he died._

Apparently, Dick will flinch, but not enough not to say, _I know what it’s like to be in Slade’s orbit. Don’t make this permanent._

 _You can’t choose your family._ Joey nearly upsets his glass of water when his hands fly out for the words.

Dick’s eyes blaze, and he leans across the table, signing choppy and fierce, _Yes. You. Can._

Almost trembling, Joey holds his gaze. . _We haven’t been family for a long time, Dick._

Struck by the words, Dick reels back in his seat. _That’s not true._

_We’ve been distant. You haven’t been there for me. I haven’t been there for you--_

_That can change._ Dick looks outraged. _Why would you accept that?_

 _Because you did,_ Joey says simply. _Because the only reason you’re here is because you needed my powers._

 _No, I wasn’t. You were right._ His expression is calm now as he leans forward. _Raven was the better choice. But I wanted you._ He mouths the words with his beautiful mouth, and heat rushes down Joey’s spine, and he can’t tell if it’s anger or something much worse.

He throws down his napkin and looks over to catch their server’s eye. _I’m not working with you._

Dick’s the one to grab his wrist this time. _Don’t, then. But give me a chance._  
A chance. _After all this years?_

He bites his lip. _No. I don’t know. Maybe._ She comes with the check, and he doesn’t look away from him as he slides his card into the sleeve. _Let me walk you back._

That much, he gives him. For an old friend. For an ex...teammate.

Matching his stride, Dick looks up at the sky through his shades. His cheekbones shine with sun reflected from the surrounding glass towers, and his Adam’s apple bobs in a summer-brown throat. Sometimes, he walks so his arm brushes Joey’s.

Joey taps his elbow and asks, _About Damian…_

Dick just snorts. _There’s no way._

 _None of us know everything Talia is capable of._

_Slade’s an ass._ He would never disagree there. _But Damian is an ass the way Bruce is an ass. There’s no confusing that._

_You’re very sure of a lot of things,_ Joey comments.

Dick bumps his elbow against Joey’s before he comes around to stand in front of him as they reach his building, craning his neck as if he could see Joey’s floor from here. His gaze returns to Joey and he shrugs and pushes up his glasses. _You are, too. Always were._ He touches Joey’s shoulder with just one finger. _That outfit you used to wear? That was brave._

Your _suit. That was stupid._ The garish yellow feathers plunging halfway down his stomach shaped the haze of his adolescence.

Smirking, Dick plays with the button of his shirt. Only his collar is unbuttoned. With age comes modesty, or maybe Joey’s been wrong about which hat was the act. _I like your current uniform. You look handsome._ His lips curve crooked at a corner. _Dangerous._

Joey would roll his eyes, except that they’re standing too close for him to make a pretense that he’s so unaffected. _I like yours._ He’s not seen it in person. He’s seen enough pictures, though, to trace a wing-splash over his chest, finger moving over the skin-warmed cotton. A bird over his heart. 

Dick closes his fingers around his hand, then reaches up with the other to push his sunglasses up into the black waves of his hair. Holding his hand to his chest, he signs, _Does it have to be over?_

“I’m not ready to start,” Joey says with his app. Ish. Étienne. It’s been unimaginable. His heart has always been softer than it should. It won’t take much more, and Dick has always broken hearts. A good man, he’s not always a kind one, and as much as he thinks, sometimes he _doesn’t._

 _Dinner,_ Dick says. _Your city._ His head tilts to the side. _Think about it._

Years were long enough to stop him thinking of Dick except at a few inopportune occasions. When Ish left black hair on his pillow, when Étienne accompanied his guitar, when Rose left her Nightwing plush at his apartment and it sat, accusatory, on his bookshelf for a week and two days. 

Joey doesn’t have to tell him that he is, and that now he’ll think of little else. Dick’s smile says it all.

Then Dick kisses him, just his cheek, but only just, his lips almost on his, but not quite. Like music in the next room, a song from another life.


End file.
